Dark Heart
by FictionalPheonix
Summary: Some unrelated drabbles focusing on the relationship between Maleficent and her raven, Diaval. A lot of Maleval.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is my first fic in years so it's probably a) really terrible and b) even worse. Still, I read every Maleval fic I could get my hands on and still needed more, so here I am. This was originally going to just be a one-shot, but I got a lot of positive feedback so I'm going to make it a collection of fairly unrelated Maleval drabbles. This one's when Aurora's about ten, so there's that. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own stuff.**

"Diaval?" Maleficent called, tapping her knuckles impatiently against her staff as she waited for her servant. It wasn't like him to take this long in returning to her from a patrol, and though she might try to hide her concern with annoyance, she couldn't deny the sense of dread rising in her gut. She'd never admit it to _him_, of course, but… well, she needed Diaval. Maybe in more ways than she'd let herself believe.

Though she acted as if Diaval's presence was a nuisance, his absence made her feel as if something was missing. He'd been an important part of her life for almost twelve years, and she'd grown used to his company.

Maleficent's drifting thoughts faltered when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small figure approaching from the air. She didn't need to turn to know it was her black raven, and as he neared her from behind, she flicked her fingers briskly. Now that he'd returned, her concern evaporated like water.

"Well?" She asked, not bothering to look over and watch his form elongate into that of a man. She awaited his response impatiently, but all Maleficent was greeted with was silence. She rolled her eyes at the dramatics of her servant, and turned to look at him…

And saw Diaval lying, semi-conscious, in a pool of his own blood.

"Diaval," she exclaimed in shock, dropping to her knees beside his limp body. Blood soaked her cloak, but she didn't notice as she searched his body for wounds. "Diaval," she said as calmly as she could manage, "Diaval where are you hurt?"

Diaval's eyes twitched slightly, but she wasn't greeted with his black irises. A short gasp of pain slipped from his mouth before he managed to pull his left arm to gesture to an area underneath his ribs. Though Maleficent worked quickly, removing his shirt and revealing the large, deep gash in his side, she found her heart beating a little faster than it should be. She could heal him, of course. Now that's she'd seen the injury, she knew it was easily remedied by her magic; after all, most things were.

She knew she'd kept her face stolid, eyes revealing nothing, as usual, but as she raised her hands to stitch his wound together with tendrils of her fiery magic, she couldn't stop her fingers from trembling ever so softly. As much of a pest as her servant could be, she knew within her heart, that he was by far the closest thing she had to a friend. And despite herself, the idea of losing him made her heart drop.

The slash seemed to take hours to close, though Maleficent knew it couldn't possibly have been more than a minute. The image of Diaval motionless and broken flashed over and over in her mind. It'd been a long time since she'd really had to feel the pain of loss. Losing Stefan, losing her wings, losing everything about her that had once been happy- she'd lived with those losses. They haunted her and guided every step she took, but the idea of losing the only person she'd been able to trust with, well with anything, for more than a decade sent her mind reeling.

Maleficent watched as Diaval's eyes flickered open, groggy and unfocused. He blinked several times, taking in the blue sky watching over the Moors. When his dark eyes caught hers, they filled with a sort of understanding, and the confusion faded out of his eyes as he spoke, "Mistress, I-"

"Diaval," she cut off quickly, "How did this happen?"

Diaval's pale lips twitched into a ghost of smile. "Ah, well, really it was my fault. I wasn't being cautious-"

"Diaval," Maleficent commanded, but he kept rambling.

"-I should have been-"

"How?" she asked darkly, eyes narrowing. Diaval did stop, and he started directly up at Maleficent, meeting her gaze.

"They knew who I was," Diaval said quietly, his voice soft. He dropped his eyes to the side as he continued, "They'd heard you were often accompanied by a black raven and when I flew over the wall…" He trailed off with a careless shrug, reluctant to continue. Maleficent didn't blame him; her imagination could finish the story just fine. She was no stranger to the cruelty of men, but it didn't change the disgust she felt on Diaval's behalf. She felt an anger stir inside of her, an anger that had nothing to do with Stefan and everything to do with the servant- the _friend_- around whom she'd spent the last twelve years.

"Who were they?" Maleficent's voice was serious, void of any trace of light. It spoke of her absolute anger, her terrible fury. Though most would not be able to distinguish her tone from the detached façade she usually wore like a laurel, Diaval could hear the merciless cold lurking beneath her words.

"Mistress," he said, quickly, trying in vain to prop himself up on his elbows despite his weakened state, "I'm fine, it really doesn't matter anymore-"

But it was too late. Maleficent had already risen from the ground, Diaval's blood still wet on her clothes. "Who?" She commanded once again, her back to Diaval.

With a soft sigh to himself, Diaval replied quietly, "A party of three archers, all in steel armor with King Stefan's coat of arms." Maleficent nodded, her resolve for vengeance growing, but as she walked away from Diaval, his voice followed her.

"You don't need to do this," Diaval called out to her, and for no reason she could understand, she stopped. "The men didn't even attempt to breach the wall- they came for me. I made it, you still have your servant, it's done. Next time they come after me-"

"No." Maleficent said, still not turning towards Diaval. "No, I do need to do this. So there won't be a next time." And with that, Maleficent left Diaval wondering if this could maybe be a sign that somewhere in her heart, she'd allow herself to feel for Diaval what he knew he felt for her.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So I wrote some more. Funs. This is set directly after the scene in the movie in which Maleficent tells Aurora to come and live in the Moors. I'd really love it if you reviewed! Thanks.**

Diaval watched his Mistress from a vantage point high in the tree she sat on. He _felt_, rather than knew, that she was suffering. He'd heard the pain ricocheting through her voice like firecrackers as she spoke to Aurora, seen the subtle tilt of her head that signaled her anger. But unlike her usual anger, bright and violent and vengeful, seeking terror and chaos, this anger was a steady flame, eating away inside of her. She wasn't angry at Stefan anymore- she wasn't mourning her wings.

She was angry at herself. And she was mourning Aurora.

And Diaval understood. He understood the love she felt for the girl, the affection she felt when she looked into those blue eyes, so innocent and full of life. Aurora didn't know the evil his world was capable of, and Maleficent and Diaval had never wanted her to find out. The truth, Diaval knew, was that Maleficent loved Aurora. She loved the young girl wholly and completely and with everything in her body. She loved Aurora, and so did Diaval. The only difference was that Maleficent didn't have hope, and Diaval did.

Slowly, he glided down to rest on a branch near Maleficent's horns. At the rustle of his wings, she glanced sideways towards him slowly, as if the small action in itself was a struggle for her. As if it was hard for her to find the will to do much of anything.

More than anything, Diaval wanted to comfort her as a man. He wanted to sit beside her and take her hand in his, to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tell her that it would be okay. Of course, it wouldn't be okay. Diaval knew it would never be okay. Still, he found himself wondering if just telling her that might be enough. Could letting her know how he felt about her soften the heart she'd turned to stone?

But even if it would, it didn't matter. The presence of man would only ever worsen the problem. What Stefan had done to Maleficent was sickening, and Diaval hated that anytime he stood before her in that form, he came to mind. He didn't want to be associated with the King, not for any reason.

So instead of motioning to be transformed into a man, instead of holding Maleficent's soft hands into his own pale, calloused ones, he did what he knew would help his Mistress most. With one quick flex of his wings, Diaval swooped down and landed on Maleficent's shoulder. Maleficent tilted her head, resting it gently on his soft feathers.

"Diaval," she whispered so quietly he wasn't sure if she'd imagined it, "How did we get here?"

He knew what she meant. It didn't seem that long ago that Maleficent had laughed in the face of King Stefan, eyes glistening with power as she cursed the young princess. Now, the girl's curse brought a different glisten to her eyes. Diaval had never imagined he'd witness his Mistress cry, and even now, her tears did not fall. Yet, they were there, droplets of salt water lurking beneath her lids, building in silence.

"I can't lose her, Diaval," she admitted softly. "She's- she's my redemption. She's one thing I could do right in this world, and I'm going to lose her. I'm going to lose her and I have no one but myself to blame."

Her confession rocked him, a blow to his heart. He'd never heard his Mistress so open. She sounded hurt, sad, but also acutely vulnerable. It was a different experience, seeing her this way, and Diaval found himself in awe of how beautiful she truly was. Not physically- her stunning appearance was incredible, but he often found it to be as terrible as it was spectacular. No, he was struck breathless by her resolve. She'd always been stronger, stronger than anything or anyone Diaval had ever encountered, but it was only seeing her like this that could make him truly realize how much pain she was hiding behind her cold demeanor.

'You won't lose her,' he wished he could say. 'You won't lose her because you and I will never stop looking for a way to save her. There's always a loophole. There's always an alternative. There's always something and I _swear_ we will never stop looking. For Aurora. And for ourselves.'

In his imagination, he'd kneel before her as he spoke, clutching her hands in his. She'd look down on him, tortured eyes darting somewhere between despair and the promise of hope. But the world wasn't a fantasy, a blank page for him to create a story upon. If it was, things would be different. For all of them. All Diaval could do was hope that, one day, his Mistress might be ready to be the bright girl she'd once been. He knew that the only one who could bring light into her dark heart was herself, and he also knew that until she did, he would be waiting for her.

Whatever she needs.

Until the day he dies.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'll keep this short because I don't actually have anything to say, but yeah. This is a little scene from the very end of the movie, when Maleficent and Diaval are watching Aurora in the Moors with all her faery subjects. Awesome. Anyways, reviews are super cool, so please do that. Thanks!**

As Maleficent watched Aurora, smiling at her Goddaughter's joy and beauty with the golden wreath framing her face like a halo, Diaval watched her. He loved Aurora, but what captured his gaze was not the young Queen, but his Mistress. He didn't think he'd ever adjust to the sight of her brown hair down, billowing in the soft breeze of the Moors, or even her smile, the way it lit up her face with love and joy, and, in turn, igniting his heart.

He'd known he'd loved her for years. Sometimes, he couldn't imagine ever _not _loving her: couldn't picture a time where he was anywhere but with her. She was a part of him, and he liked to think he was a part of her, whether or not it was true. He knew what every movement meant, read every inflection with an accuracy he thought even she would be impressed by. And as he watched her posture, observed her stance with careful perception, he knew this was the happiest, the most joyous she had ever been.

There was something beautiful in the fact that seeing the daughter that she -_they_- had raised filled her soul with a purity and innocence he wouldn't have imagined possible had he not seen it himself, and it sent fireworks off inside of his stomach. She couldn't ever truly understand, he thought, what it felt like to see her.

She was beautiful.

She was irrevocably, distinctly, elegantly, indisputably, powerfully beautiful.

"Diaval." Maleficent asked, the tip of her lip tilted upwards as she continued to observe the coronation scene unfolding beneath them.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Is there something you wish to speak to me about?" With this, she turned, quirking a curious, slightly amused eyebrow at him.

"Mistress?" he asked inquisitively, furrowing his brow.

"Well, as you keep looking over at me without speaking, I have to assume there's something we need to address."

Diaval only chuckled. He'd mentioned his affections towards her before, but only briefly. It made her uncomfortable, and he respected that. Still, her awkwardness was incredibly endearing to him. "Not at all, Mistress. I just find you to be remarkable."

His Mistress just shook her head. Her slight smirk disappeared with the thought of romance, fizzling out so quickly it was like it had never been there. "Diaval..." she began, fumbling for words, "You know that's not- I mean we won't-"

"Of course I _know, _Mistress. I would never presume otherwise. It's not my place to-"

"It's not about place," she whispers softly. A vulnerability in her spills open. "I'm not- I'm not ready. I will never be ready. Stefan, he- he didn't just break my heart, he took it from me. There's nothing left there. I can't care, not the way I once could. I can never love you Diaval. Don't you understand that?" She sounds almost desperate, her words morphing into a kind of plea.

Diaval hesitates before responding. He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn't know how to say it. How does he say what he feels without scaring her off, without forcing her back into the shell of self-loathing and anger she's lived in so long? "Mistress," he begins carefully, "I do understand that; I understand that it's what you believe. You don't think you have the capacity to love, but I- well, I've seen it. I see it every day when you look at Aurora. If you can love her so truly so completely and wholly and immersive, then you can love. I can wait."

"For how long?" she counters. "How long will you wait for me, Diaval? Days? Months? Years? I can promise you nothing, and I can't make you wait for me. It's not fair to you, not fair that you should-"

"You're not _making _me do anything, Maleficent." He felt her shock at his interruption, something he was certain he'd never even considered doing before, but also at his use of her name. A part of him regretted it immediately, but the rest of him kept speaking. He had too much to say, and once he'd started, he couldn't stop. "The truth is, I'm not here because of some pledge I made eighteen years ago. I didn't follow every command you gave because you saved my life from some pig farmer. I raised a child with you, fought an unwinnable battle, walked into and out of hell because _I love you. _And that is something you cannot change, not in a million years, no matter how far you push me away. You don't have to feel the same, but I won't deny myself the joy I feel simply being around you. I can't."

Maleficent's lips parted, forming a soft 'o' shape, and Diaval took a breath. She didn't speak, but as he looked into her eyes, crystals laced with starlight, he felt his heart sink. He'd frightened her, pushed her away the way he knew he would. She was wary of affection, and the affection of a _man_? She'd never accept it.

He lowered his head, pulse racing with anticipation. He had to fix this, had to patch up the scars he'd made between them. "Mistress, forgive me. I shouldn't have-"

"Was that the truth?" She looked at him with a gaze of caution, asking a reluctant, fearful question he knew she didn't wanted to ask.

He couldn't lie to her. "Yes, Mistress. Every word."

She bobbed her head, an almost imperceptible nod that he knew wasn't for him, but for herself. "So, as you say, you aren't really my servant?"

"That wasn't what I meant, Mistress. I am your servant, and I always will be. I will obey everything you ask of me, but not out of duty. That is the difference."

"Diaval," she said hesitantly, and he braced himself for her to lash out, to scold him. Not that it would change anything for him. He loved all of her, even the vengeful, deceptive parts even she didn't like to admit she had. "I care for you. You are the constant in my life, the one thing I can count on, always."

"I know."

"I trust you with my life, but I can't trust you with my heart. It doesn't make sense, but it's the truth. I don't think I can ever change, Diaval, but… well you do. And I want to change, I do. And if you'll wait, if you'll hold out until I can return your affections then… Well, then we'll see."

Time around him seemed to stop. Diaval's mind spun with the possibilities, the future he'd barely dared to consider, spread out in front of him like a map. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to hear those words until they reached his ear, spinning over and over in his head.

"I will wait for you, Mistress." He didn't think he needed to say it. He'd always wait for her- she should know.

"Maleficent," she corrects, the ghost of a smile tugging on her lips. His face mirrored hers as he nodded obligingly.

"Maleficent."


End file.
